Come Together
by Kuyeng13-The Heart Logos
Summary: Various stories about the characters I've written about and GW in general.Oneshot fifteen: The House that Illusion Built: There was no boy. There was no husband. They were never there.
1. The World Burns

**I'm starting another story!! A series of drabbles and short stories about the various characters in my Guild Wars stories. They are out of order, they are random, they are sad, happy, sweet, and all sorts of varying mish mashed things. They could be from a story already written except elaborated or with a P.O.V change, they could be totally new or a rewrite.**

**I do not own Guild Wars.**

**I own some of these characters.**

**Please don't try to steal them…they're pathetically weak, silly, and strange but they're all I have!!!**

* * *

**Title: The World Burns**

**Warnings:** Agnst, Character Death, and some rather poooooooooor writing

**Characters:** Zefi, Pumkin Sniper, Zefiros, Wolfy, various Charr

**Continent: **Ascalon

* * *

He looked up from the tracks of a stalker he was chasing, gleaming beads clinking in his hair. He turns to his wolf companion.

"Do you smell that Wolfy?" Pumkin mentally smacked himself a second after the words left his mouth, not because Wolfy couldn't respond (well, he could respond, he just couldn't _talk_) but because of course his canine companion could smell it if it was so obvious to him.

"I wonder what's burning…" His brown eyes trailing skyward, searching for the telltale signs of fire, smoke. He scanned the blue expanse above, turning until he finally saw the dark gray and black tendrils…and he froze. Brown eyes widen in horror and hope.

_Please…Melandru…NO!_

The young man, no a child really dashes towards the source of the fire, activating his spell _Run as One_ bursting through the trees, grasses, shrubs and other flora towards his clan's settlement. He skidded to a halt a few yards away, the acrid smell of smoke smothering him, he pulls up his mask and turns to his wolf.

Pumkin looks between his wolf, animal half of his soul and his home, knowing that precious seconds are being wasted through his indecision. He rips off a piece of his sleeve and ties it around the sensitive nose of Wolfy.

"Stay here if you can't handle it, hide if you see a Charr…I need to go in there." He says before throwing himself into the blazing inferno that was once his home, trying to resist looking back and opening himself to attack.

His eyes scan over the burning buildings, his ears try to find a sound other than the roaring flames that seem to bellow with angry joy. He hears it…screaming and runs towards it. A growing sense of dread blossoms within him, gnawing at the pit of his stomach as he rams aside-burning wood. The screaming, though faint grows louder, the putrid scent of Charr makes Pumkin throw up in his mouth, but he swallows the bile.

Almost at the opposite end of the village he sees them, Charr, dozens of them, a war band, shooting point blanks into the heads of his friends, his family, his _clan_. He wants to help…but there's three missing. Three very important figures missing from the quickly diminishing group.

He turns and quietly, as carefully as he can among the inferno returns to the blaze and once again resumes his run, this time to his house.

Flames scorch and lick their way upwards around the building, he kicks open the door and scans the blazing room. No one, he jumps up the short flight of stairs, not pausing a beat as they crumple and fall under him. Pumkin is running on pure adrenaline now, and he sees them…twins, a boy and a girl, brown hair and skin covered in soot, burned cornered by a large Charr shaman. A man stands in front of the Charr, shielding the children the brunt of the flames the Shaman is hurling at them.

Pumkin curses, his skills are few and meant for long range, the others he have are for Wolfy. He tries anyway and shoots an arrow at the Charr, the arrow pierces the fur and hide but the Charr doesn't even flinch as it turns away from its prey to face him.

It charges.

He cringes, he has no where to go, but perhaps his family could escape, if he could just bring the Charr down into the fire with him…

A feral snarl rips through the roaring blaze as Wolfy leaps through the flames and sinks his fangs into the Charr's jugular, instantly killing it.

Pumkin doesn't have time to be grateful, he rushes over to his siblings, he knows the man is dead, and there will be no time to mourn, he picks up Zefi and throws her over his shoulder, the little girl has always been too small and too light for her size, he picks up the boy, Zefiros, and throws him over Wolfy's back, he knows Wolfy won't let his brother fall.

He jumps into the flames, Wolfy right behind him, and run as one out of the village, the Charr are leaving, they took what they wanted, and there is no one left to save.

He does not stop, even after the adrenaline is long gone, even as he's panting for breath and his muscles scream in protest, as his burns and lungs rip and ache at his mind, he runs. He runs and runs until he's at the top of a nearby mountain, and he collapses.

He's vaguely aware of his little sibling's cries.

He can feel the pain Wolfy has from his burns through their connection.

To his very core he can feel his own pains.

But that's not what's going through his mind right now, as he rolls over to see the edge of the mountain, the flames still visible from even that tremendous height.

He thinks.

_How will we live?_

_I'm only fourteen…they are only six._

_We have no home._

_We have no money._

_We have no family._

_We have nothing._

_How will we survive?_

A loud keening noise rips the silence, it's choked and garbled, like some animal choking on blood as it dies a pain filled, horrifying death. The sound tears at the ears, piercing and raw, primal.

It takes a few seconds for Pumkin to realize that the sound is _himself._

He stops, sobs he didn't realize where shaking him continue to bubble out of his mouth, he rips off his mask, burned, soot covered, and filthy.

He pushes himself upwards against the pull of his muscles screaming in protest. He sees the twins from where they were, they must have crawled there at some point because Pumkin couldn't for the life of him remember putting them there.

The two pairs of amethyst eyes stare at him, a plethora of things sparking out from them.

_Hate, despair, anger, blame, sadness, loss, misery, loathing, want._

However, the thing that scares him most is…the _fear._

They shake and tremble, so badly that their teeth rattle. It wasn't just fear of the flames, the terror of the Charr. It was their fear of _him._

What was going to happen to their big brother? Was he going to leave them? Become angry? Was he going to be alright? Would he turn into some sort of strange monster?

Pumkin forced down his sobs and pulled out a bottle of troll unguent and beckoned them to him, as one would a frightened animal, they quietly crawled to him, still shaking, and clung to him as he applied it to their burns.

He called up some reserves of energy and healed Wolfy, he could heal later and turned once again towards the still burning blaze.

Two pairs of identical purple stared into the blaze.

Brown pools stared into the very core of the flame.

And they watched as their world burned.


	2. Most Beautiful Lady

**Title: ****Most Beautiful Lady**

**Characters: **Nocturnal Mercury, a Paragon who has not been introduced to main storyline

**Continent:** Kryta, Shiverpeaks region, not in a map zone

**Warnings:** more poor writing

* * *

Nocturnal Mercury sat, eyes closed, upon a stone boulder, steeling herself against the biting wind.

"Ho there!" A cheery slightly accented voice calls from her right. She ignores it, meditation is very important.

The voice calls once again, it is deep, but not that of a dwarf's for it is not as rough. It's smooth, it reminds Mercury of cream.

"Excuse me lady monk!"

Never the less, she ignores it. The voice will leave soon, if not now, later…a simple passerby, no one ever comes to pay respects at the small shrine of Lyssa she maintains. That's why she picked it to maintain.

"Pardon me!" the voice calls, but this time from right in front of her.

Mercury is startled but retains her composure; she slowly opens her eyes and is once again startled once again by a pair of pale silvery eyes. A paragon?? This far north?

"May I help you?" She murmurs quietly, in the calm placating manner that all monks seem to have.

He smiles, chocolate skin pulling back to reveal gleaming white teeth, sparkling white against even the pure snow.

"Well, could you perhaps tell me your name?"

"I am Nocturnal Mercury, child of Lyssa, Dwanya, and Balthazar. May I perhaps inquire to yours?"

"I am Konan, child of Balthazar and Dwanya. Could you perhaps point me in the direction of the nearest town?"

"The nearest town is the Lion's Gate, and I believe you just came from there."

His smile dims a little.

"Perhaps you know of a place I can stay? I find that I am ill prepared for this weather."

Nocturnal scrutinizes his white armor and thin clothing. Ill prepared indeed.

"I take care of a shrine of Lyssa, it is not large, it is not very comfortable, but it will hold through storms and there's room enough for you." She hopped off the rock she was perched upon and gestures for him to follow. He smiles.

The next day he takes off once again, Mercury feels rather sad to see him go. But that is how things must be.

* * *

A week later finds Mercury sitting upon her rock once again, attempting to meditate when a voice slices through her silence.

"Hello Lady Monk!"

She opens an eye and closes it once again upon confirming that yes, it was Konan.

He continues to call out to her but she ignores him in favor of finishing her prayers.

"What brings you back here Konan, Child of Balthazar and Dwanya?" Mercury says.

He smiles one of his bright white smiles.

"A quest to see the most beautiful lady! Could you shelter me once again Lady Monk?" He says. She crushes the small urge to ask who the lady is and mentally scolds herself for wishing it was her. He lightly touches her arm as she hops off her boulder (it's such a huge thing really).

He stays for three days this time before he's off on his way.

A strange feeling of emptiness fills her, as if he's taking a piece of her with him. She chides herself for getting so attached and once again starts up her prayers. She's getting behind in prayers to Melandru…

* * *

A month later he calls out to her as he comes down her road.

He knows better than to interrupt her at this point and simply settles himself down across from her as she finishes her prayers. She must pray to every God equally after all, it wouldn't be fair otherwise.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to know why I'm here?"

"I suppose that you're still looking for the most beautiful lady?"

"Actually…yes." He smiles.

"I also suppose that you need lodgings on your journey?"

He smiles wider.

"Yes."

She slips off the boulder and accepts his hand as he guides her towards the temple, which, she muses, is gaining more signs of use than before.

He stays for a month this time.

On the day of his departure he pulls out a small sheaf of paper.

Documents that would allow her to leave her shrine and move around at will.

Written on the bottom in a little scrawl _Permission to show off the most beautiful lady!_

A small smile tugs at her lips and she hands back the piece of paper. His smile falters and fades altogether and he turns and walks away.

* * *

It's almost two months later he returns, and once again she's sitting on her rock. But she is not praying.

An hour later he's gone.

However when he leaves he doesn't take a piece of her with him.

He takes all of her.


	3. Visions of Love

**Title: Visions of Love**

**Characters: -unrevealed-**

**Continent: -unrevealed-**

**Warnings: possible spoilers for **_**Oasis in Death**_

* * *

"My lady has called me?"

_Yes, my child, oracle and servant of mine…come closer._

"What is it my lady seeks of me?"

_Come child, and gaze into the mirror._

The oracle turns and gazes into a large golden mirror, the glass within is black and smoky, but as the oracle gazes within a small speckle of light glows. It flares much like the servant's heart once did and shines into a bright flare of light, almost as brilliant and pure as that of lady Dwanya's.

_Look…look and see…your future._

* * *

A girl sits in a library, alone, skin pale and taught around her bones. At one time she was sweet, pretty, alive, whatever this child is can obviously be seen as a specter and shadow of once was. The cheeks that must have been full and rosy before were sunken in, hollow. Her eyes that might have gleamed some beautiful color, that might have glowed with childish innocence, were wide and gleaming with some sort of twisted and melancholy glaze, bright with sickness and disease.

Her small hands, child hands, press against a window, her lips pull back, chapped and torn, small spots of pink and red rolling out as the cuts open into a small "o" shape. Her hands, oh her hands! Pitiful, all bones and veins, as if old and aged several dozens of years ahead of her time, pale and translucent. They claw at the window, shaking all the while.

* * *

The vision fades and the oracle attempts to pull back but the compelling force of Lyssa pushes to look once again.

A new vision.

* * *

The girl once again, but this time slightly bigger, it must have been several months, perhaps years, further in time for the scenery outside the window has changed and although the room is the same, it shows several changes that could have only occurred with a change in time. No matter how many months had passed, she was still almost as small and pitiful as before. Her eyes, still glazed, had no shine, the sickness faded into a dull wretched blankness.

* * *

The oracle's heart, which was thought to be long gone and dead, quietly stuttered at the sad sight.

The vision changes once again.

* * *

The servant cannot see the face anymore, but the girl is fully grown and stands in the midst of snow and sleet and wind. She stands facing towards the horizon as the sun feebly pokes through the clouds and fog and mists to shine over the cliffs and mountains.

The girl is dressed in red and black. Her figure cannot be seen clearly, but she has filled out somewhat over the years, other than that nothing can be seen, but a voice whispers from her lips…and the servant almost misses the words her voice was so quiet and the wind so fierce.

* * *

The vision is gone.

The servant pulls back.

_Did you see?_

"Yes my lady."

_Soon my child…soon you shall be recalled to life…and be free to roam once again my damned abomination. My sweet twisted monster…_

The servant shuddered as the change between the twin faces of the Goddesses became apparent.

As the servant walked away, mind lost in thought, mulling after the last few words she said.

_**

* * *

**_

I promise you forever my beloved…remember me…

* * *


	4. Avenger

**Title: Avenger**

**Characters: -unrevealed-**

**Continent: Ascalon (post searing)**

**Warnings: some angst**

* * *

I hate them.

I hate them all.

I hate myself.

I hate my brother.

I hate my family.

I hate myself.

I hate my brother.

I hate my clan.

But I hate _them_ the most.

They took everything from me.

I hate it.

My brother is hurting, he tries to hide it. But I remember.

He took me and my twin away from the flames and destruction. And he cried…he wailed and howled like his wolf. But he had to crush all the emotions down so he could take care of us.

The damn Charr took my father from me.

They took my innocence.

I never knew the horror of war and the Charr…before that day…they were some distant threat to me.

I'd heard of them, the things they did, but I never imagined they'd come this far in the wall.

They came to our village, killed out patrols and spotters. Ripped apart our animal brethren and devoured them raw. Fire rained from the sky as arrows exploded our mud, clay, and grass homes. Poison gas clouds billowed in huge clouds, choking off several of us without our masks or charms. My twin and I huddled away in one of the higher floors of our house, well out of the way of arrow range, the gas sinks, we should have been safe.

Screams…so many screams, I thought I would go deaf, or that it was all I'd ever hear, I thought the last thing I would hear was a mixture of my own heartbeat, my twin's strangled sobs, and the screaming of my kin.

Then it found us.

A large Charr shaman, orange fur glinting in the light as it set fire to our house, it found us and was about to rip us to shreds when our father threw himself at it.

My twin and I watched, wide eyed as that monster shredded our father, our only parent, tore into his skin and singed away his flesh and muscles. He didn't scream.

I remember that, the rest of that day seemed muted in my mind, blurred as if through film, but I remember he never once screamed.

Just as killed my father my elder brother came, and shot an arrow straight into the back of the Charr's back, his wolf came in moments later and ripped the Charr's jugular.

I hate it.

I hate it, that I blame my brother for my father's death. Deep down, I can't help but think…that if he got there faster, if he was there earlier, Father could have lived.

I regret it, but I blame him deep down for not getting there fast enough, I saw my brother cry that day, not just sobs and tears, but screams of hurt and pain.

I hate this part most, I feared my brother. In those few moments when he bared down his raw pain I was afraid of him, what he would do, what would happen, what he was thinking.

Over the past few months in which the three of us, my brother, twin, and myself, had started to rebuild (we are the only survivors) I've come to realize some things.

I've changed.

I've become stronger, more solid.

Yet I'm afraid, and broken on the inside.

I hope those Charr that killed my clan live.

I want them to live until I'm ready to face them; I have a message for them.

I want to thank them for giving me this inner strength, for helping me come to face the truth of the world.

So I'm going to get stronger, I'm going to grow up and avenge my clan, and make sure that those Charr die, painfully; I want it to be slow.

I want them to watch as I kill each and every one of that war band.

That's what they're called, war bands.

I want to burn their hair till they're furless…then skin them, peel it off slowly. Drain them of blood till they're dry.

I want to rip out their eyes, deafen their ears with screams, rip out their voice boxes so they can't scream when I get tired of it…

I want them to suffer.

I want to destroy each one differently too.

I almost don't want to find them…just so that I can dream up more ways to destroy them.

Every day the fantasy changes, a different scenario, a different combination of screams and splatters.

Every day I get stronger, I come closer to that day where I'll rip them apart like they did my father.

I'll burn their remains, whatever remains there are, and scatter it to the winds I was named after.

I look forward to it, I look forward to it so much that I'm giddy at the thought. It makes my blood pump fast and bursts of energy explode in me.

I grind my teeth together trying to contain the laughter I have to smother at the thought.

But I'll laugh; I'll laugh in their faces as I kill them.

I can't wait!


	5. Arsonphobia

**Title: Arsonphobia**

**Characters: Zefi, Delius E.**

**Continent: Kryta, North Shiverpeaks**

**Warnings: spoilers for what happens in the series**

* * *

"So why did you pick being an elementalist for your second profession?"

"To make a point."

"What point would that be?"

"I hate fire."

"…Isn't that rather contradictory?" He says eyeing the ball of flame she tosses back and forth, her gleaming amethyst eyes staring deep into the flame.

"Not really."

He stares at her skeptical before sparking his own small flame.

"Shall I explain?" She says, holding the ball still.

"Yes, please." He swirls his around his hands.

"The Charr burned my clan down…I watched my father burn in front of me…I remember his skin melting right off."

He winces, knowing the terror of watching the atrocities of war; he was, after all, a soldier of the first order.

"I watched, the smoke could be seen from miles off, the fire destroyed our forest, our farms, our homes…our people. I can tell you how each and every one of them died. I can tell you the order the buildings burned in…I can tell you where the fire started. I can tell you all about it."

He wants to reach out to hold her, comfort her, but in that moment, she looks so dangerous that he fears breaking her (or himself) if he dared touch. Her eyes are wide, the flames reflecting like sick lamps in her wide jewel eyes, bright with the strange sickness of the mind.

"And my brother whisked me away, and the flames…they burned him…they burned his wolf…he still has the scars. He doesn't let anyone know or see, I know…because I've seen them, when they were raw and blistering. When he thought we were asleep, he put an iron arrowhead in his mouth, and bit down, then he had to cut off the skin that wouldn't heal off…I can still smell the blood and soot if I close my eyes and think back. That's why I don't like sleeping, closing my eyes."

The flame burns bright in her hands, dementedly dancing as if feeding off her pain. Her voice borders hysteria, fear grips him as he listens.

"So I want them to burn too…I decided that a long time ago, I want them to _burn_ and _boil_ in their own fluids and cook themselves over their bones. At first I was afraid of the flame…" her fingers, like claws, cup the flame, "then I grew to love it, watching the suffering of monsters as they blister and melt away into nothingness…and I can't wait to see that happen to the Charr, I want them to see, what they've created, to see that I'm not the weak pathetic thing I was back then. That I'm strong and I've overcome, that I can control that which I hate, that I can control the dangerous…I want to _crush_ them" her fingers crush the flame, extinguishing them completely.

"I love the flames…I hate them and I love them, I fear them and I crave them…I love how full of life they are and yet how empty they leave things." Her eyes are wide and her voice turns from hysterical to giddy, her teeth are bared in sheer _joy_ at the idea.

He doesn't like this girl…this _child_ who sits by him in the snow. He stretches out across the space between them, that somehow shortened during their talk, and pulls her into his arms, and he shields her from the darkness and the fire, the flames and horror as she stares wide eyed at nothingness that only she can see. She clings to him and buries her face, eyes still wide, into his leather-clad shoulder and laughs, quiet giddy laughs; she sinks her teeth into the leather in order to stifle them.

He buries his head into her shoulder for a completely different reason.

He inhales her scent, leather and earth mixed with ash and that fresh scent that is just…_her_. And something inside him mourns for her, the part of her that died and burned with her family on that day. But he feels slight shame, for loving her more after these few moments. Loving this contradictory pyromaniac who fears her flames. The beautiful violet gem he holds in his arms that burns with a crazed inner light.

And he prays…to every God he knows and those that he doesn't, that aren't his, those that are long lost, really anyone who'll listen, that in the end, the fire don't take her too…because he doesn't want to loose her to the flames she lives and breathes.


	6. Happy Birthday Mamma

**Title: Happy Birthday Mama**

**Characters: Dawn and unmentioned character in story**

**Continent: Cantha, Echovald region but not an actual listed map**

**Warnings: mentions of rape, kidnapping, murder, and incest.**

* * *

"Happy birthday mamma!"

A little boy with large brown eyes, white skin and deep chocolate hair smiles up at his mother.

A girl with dull, sad brown eyes, pale skin which is a mixture of its natural tone and sickness, and walnut locks stares down at her son.

"Thank you love." She smiles, but even the boy can tell it's weak and forced. The boy, only three, doesn't like how sad his mother looks.

"How old are you?"

"Not very."

"But what year mamma?"

"I'll tell you someday."

The boy pouts and clings to his mother's waist.

"Why not now?"

"It's complicated."

"…will you tell me a story mamma?"

"What story do you want to hear?"

"How you met papa!" He smiles, unaware of how cruel the question was. The girl winces but forces a smile and hugs the boy to her, he fills her lap and she can barely fit her head over his.

"He's not your papa…not really." She curls her arms tight around him, the familiar feeling of dread and sickness forcing bile to rise in her throat.

"I don't understand mamma…"

"I don't expect you to honey…but…we aren't married."

"But I thought only a married people can be a mamma and pappa!"

"That's…not really true."

"But you _do_ love each other right? Like you do me?"

"…We might have…once. Loved each other like I love you."

"You mean you don't love each other? Like the prince and princess in the stories?"

"No."

"I don't understand."

The girl bites the inside of her cheek, the coppery tang of blood mixing with sour bile, she likes to think that this particular mix of flavors is the taste of hate. A taste she's come to be very familiar with.

She hates that man…who first introduced her to this taste…

He who took her ruthlessly.

But she can't hate this child…the result of the crime.

But she knows she's going to hate herself most for what's going to happen.

* * *

She stares at the child, cut open and gutted like a fish on the sacrificial tablet…and wishes that it was her instead of him with all her sad pathetic heart. Oh how she _despises_ the man who has done this to her child, her precious light, her one joy in life.

Murdered and mangled so that she can barely recognize the body. Only knowing it was her precious boy because she saw him being killed and mutilated on that table just moments before…hearing his voice scream out to her while she was held back, his voice echoing over her own sobs of pain.

The man places a hand, a filthy corrupt hand, on her shoulder. The hand covered in the blood of his kin.

"Happy thirteenth birthday Dawn." His voice is uncaring and callous as he watches his son's blood drip from the table.

"…" She stares at the child, and doesn't respond.

"Now come to bed with me." His grip tightens, she knows that tone, knows that leer. She also knows that she must answer.

"Yes Uncle."


	7. Nothing Nice to Say

**Title: Nothing Nice to Say**

**Characters: **-unknown-

**Continent: **Vabbi

**Warnings:** past of one of the characters, guess who

* * *

"Mother?"

"…"

"I love you."

"..."

"I love you."

"I know, I heard you."

"Ok."

A little boy goes off to play in the private garden that only the concubines have access to. A young woman watches the child play with her "sisters" with cold eyes, and turns her face away.

* * *

"Mother?"

"…"

She turns to face the boy, he's gotten bigger, his face is still round with baby fat, she can see…_him_ in this boy though.

"What?" she asks, impatient when he doesn't get to the point.

"I love you." She turns away back to her instrument.

She ignores him as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

He eventually wanders off and she continues playing.

* * *

She coughs into a white linen, glaring at the brilliant blooms of scarlet dotting the once pristine cloth. A small hand touches her arm and she turns to the child, slight annoyance etching onto her face.

"I love you Mother." He says, eyes wide and earnest. The emotion pouring out of his mouth like petals from the flowers that once adorned her hair.

She pulls her arm away and enters the inner sanctum of the harem, leaving the boy in the entrance.

* * *

She lies in her bed, surrounded by her fellow whores, concubines, harem members, whatever they're called as she drowns in blood and small hand holds hers.

"I love you Mother" tears pouring out of the wide, miserable eyes.

She turns her head.

"Mother how come you never answer me?"

"…Do you remember what I said about saying things?"

"If you don't have anything nice to say don't' say anything at all?"

"I have nothing nice to say."

"…I love you Mother."


	8. Tattoo

**Title: Tattoo**

**Characters: Konan (Most Beautiful Lady), Nocturnal Mercury**

**Continent: Kryta, Lion's Arch**

**Warnings: unbearably light fluff**

* * *

He looked at her slightly guilty for dragging her so far away from the winter climate she was so used to, then having to leave her to meet with the rest of the Sunspear Ambassadors. But she just smiled and waved him off, placid smile on her face and calm expression that always seemed glued to her.

Guilty, he turned and walked towards the appointed rendezvous point leaving her to the large bustling city.

* * *

As Nocturnal waved him off she took a glance around the city. It has been a rather long time since she's been around so many people. She strolls through the stands and mildly observes the warmth of the climate. She pauses to sell some things that she picked off some monsters she and Konan had to fight to get down to the Lion's Arch when she sees the armorer.

On display in front is a rather _interesting_ drawing of interlocking dragons mixed with various exotic looking characters. They rather remind her of her native language of Canthan, perhaps they were Canthan inspired?

The man running the shop raises a brow at her.

Well…she has saved a lot of money from her time in the mountains, and didn't her parents leave her their Xunlai account? You only live once, what the hey.

"Anything interesting?"

"That's a rather impressive set of dragons. How much?"

He raises a brow.

They bargain and haggle for price and she enters a tent and strips down and lies on a table.

A woman enters and begins the process.

A few hours later Nocturnal walks out with dragons running up and down her arms, she pulls over some simple cloth to hide her chest and legs, slips on her plain sandals and fixes her hair. She is, after all, a child of Lyssa.

She purchases a bottle of magical dye in a rather nice shade of violet and pours it onto the new ink and watches as it spreads across her skin and glows a soothing Mesmer purple.

She plops herself down on the docks and nibble on some of the simple bread she bought from a stand a few paces back.

She waits.

* * *

Konan sighs, he feels so guilty for leaving his precious treasure (that's what he's come to think of Nocturnal as, his hard won treasure, gained from several perilous trips into the freezing cold mountains) alone in the large city on their first day back into civilization.

It's already past nightfall as he walks around trying to spot her in the soft darkness. The moon is bright and so is the flames of the torches, at night the city is still awake, but she's a small little thing.

He spots a soft glow by the docks.

He sees the most beautiful thing in the world.

His treasure, bathed in moonlight and standing waist deep in the shallows. Her simple linen shifts lay to the side, carefully folded and on her skin is a shining purple. Streams of purple running up and down her skin, stopping just at her neck, a small trail of it curling up into her scalp, hidden by hair. The purple glows and ripples, as if alive, and he realizes that they're _tattoos_, dragon tattoos. They must be new because he's never seen them before.

He stares and draws closer to her, she smiles and he wades into the shallows, mesmerized (pardon the pun) he runs a finger along the tattoos, tracing them, wondering at the warmth that spreads from them into him. He watches the ripples of power as they go from all around her, hands sliding over the linen binding her chest to grip her hips lightly.

He presses his lips against the dragon resting in the center of her collarbone.

She smiles and wraps her arms around him.

"My precious treasure."


	9. Good for You

**Title: Good For You**

**Characters: Madilim, OC, Kurzick elders**

**Continent: Cantha, Kurzick region**

**Warnings: none**

**Time period: pre-Oasis in Death, post-Life after Death**

* * *

Being the all powerful Dark Queen, heiress of the zu Lamig line, the elders of her house are eager to use her as a tool.

That is the nature of man, to use whatever is at their disposal to gain, use everything at their dispense to further their own self interests.

So they want to marry her off to the House zu Heltzer, or one of the other five large houses.

Pity their pawn doesn't want to go forward.

* * *

Madilim sat at the head of the long stone table, back ramrod straight in the large decadent yet strangely pious looking throne of wood. Her hair cascaded down her back and shoulder blades, softly curling over her shoulder, framing her silver scarred face. Lips drawn into a fine line her eyes held a look that many have, and will, mistake for apathy.

It is anything but.

Her long, elegant, aristocratic fingers steeple on the table top, delicate pale elbows leaning on the armrests of her chair. Black floral lace blossomed at her shoulders and faded to her fingertips. Deep, wine, and red her dress bowed at the small of her back and flowed out to pool at the floor. It looked as if there was a fountain of blood pluming out from her.

It was a stunning image to the men being led into the conference room.

Elder Auguste pulled out a scroll and passed it to the heiress who plucked it from his hands, ignoring the look of disdain that flashed across his face as she reached for it.

Her silver (some mistake for blind) eyes flow over the script before she rolls it back up and slides it to the elders on her other side.

She once again ignores the flinches as she moves towards them.

Elder Auguste clears his throat and her eyes briefly slide over to him, causing him to flinch at their blank intensity, before sliding back to the lineup in front of her.

Tall men, short men, bald, old, handsome, ugly, young, they come in a large variety.

Madilim idly thinks, _life…is like a box of bones, all different shapes and sizes and colors…_

A tall, rather thin, wiry, man (really, she thinks, he looks barely past being a boy) steps up as Elder Auguste calls out in his cacophonous, raspy voice, "Count zu Verde, son of Melandru and Lyssa."

He opens his mouth to speak but someone beats him to it.

"Next."

All the elders turn to her, anger, irritation, hatred, disgust, shock. The boys, men, the same, except they weren't as good as hiding it…or perhaps they too mistook her silver, pupiless eyes to be blind as well?

Elder Januar's jaw works for a few moments before he speaks.

"Excuse me…m'lady?"

"Next. Nachste. Luego. Naslednji. Berikut. Istundande. Blakus. NEXT." She flipped her hand, gesturing for the next one.

"What is wrong with this one ma'am?" Elder Marz whispered, she was always more of the quieter elders, one of the only two females on the council.

"Too young."

"M'lady…with all due respect…" Elder Juni attempted to speak before Madilim held up one lace gloved hand. His mouth closed with a small click of teeth, she drew her hand flat across the air gesturing for complete silence.

"First of all, there is no respect in what you were about to say, I am not so stupid as to think you actually care Juni. Second he is too young. Third, who are any of you," her voice, not changing in tone, gave off a freezing cold tone, causing several to shiver and straighten up, "to advise me in love…when clearly," she gestured to someone standing behind the line of men, "I have already chosen?"

Orage strutted into the room, canines gleaming as he slid past the men assembled, causing several to recoil from the sheer force of his spiritual pressure.

He placed a kiss on her cheek and slid his arm across the high back of her chair, leaning across with a feral grin upon his face, eyes gleaming with amusement.

All but three elders hissed with outrage, Dezember (the peacemaker), September (a kindly old woman who was more liberal than her four brothers, November, Auguste, Juli, and Juni), and October.

"Meeting adjourned." Madilim stood and took Orage's arm as he lead her out of the room.

"WAIT!"

Madilim turned her head.

One of the younger men, a Mesmer, and perhaps…a secondary Necromancer? She couldn't tell.

He reached out to her.

Madilim turned her icy stare to fully look at him.

"Why him? He's a Luxon! He's not one of us! How can he understand our pain? Our suffering? Our isolation? Choose me, if not me one of us. I can take care of you. I'll be good for you.

I'll work for you, I'll protect you, do everything I can for you. I'd die for you, fight for you. Pick me and you will never have to lift a finger, you'll never know hunger, or pain, sadness, I could make you so happy.

I'd destroy everything and everyone in your way. No one would stand up to you. I can gain respect for you. I'd love you.

I'd be so good for you."

He stepped closer to her, hand out stretched to her.

She removed her hand from Orage and stepped to the unnamed mesmer. She stretched out her gloved hand and placed it in the mesmer's.

He smiled.

Orage snickered.

_Snap._

The mesmer screamed and crumpled to the ground, her dainty fingers holding his middle finger so that it touched the back of his wrist.

"What pain? Our self inflicted pain that we do in order to be pious? What suffering? The suffering we create for ourselves by refusing to accept new innovations and ideas? Isolation? Don't be foolish, you, mesmer, know not what isolation is. The isolation you know? Ha. Don't make me laugh."

She held his hand in both of hers, and pulled back the ring finger so that it too snapped.

"The isolation you know is self created and a pathetic excuse of the word compared to what I went through. No sound other than my own heart, nothing to see but pure darkness, nothing to feel but cold, uncaring, unrelenting stone…That is isolation."

She twisted his pinky three hundred and sixty degrees. The high keening sound of his pain echoing around the stone high arched room.

"I don't care if you can take good care of me. In fact it rather sickens me. I would never, never, never choose anyone of you. I don't _want_ any of you to protect me, or shield me, or comfort me. That's ridiculous."

She pulled at his thumb until the _pop_ of the joint rang throughout the room.

"I can kill you easily, I wouldn't care. Then I could use you as part of my army. Or I could eat your soul…you'd serve me better dead than alive. Die for me? You'd throw away your life for a complete stranger? What foolish blasphemy. Throw away your life for my power more like it."

She cracked the index finger so that it formed a crude letter 'S'. Then pausing as if to admire her work she held it back before flicking the fingers, idly playing with them as she dragged is body across the room back to the table, Orage leaning against the door on the other side.

"It is better to be feared than loved…didn't you know? I don't need your love. It is also better to be cruel in small doses, so here is my first small dose of cruelty. Let him be an example for all of you. For he spoke for all of you, he shall represent all of you here and now."

She twisted the wrist so that it was perpendicular to his elbow. The mesmer's keening reaching such a high pitch that several flinched away and cringed.

"I _hate_ people who want to protect me like that. What this _fool_ basically said is that he wants to take my power and keep me as a little trophy. _Fuck that._ I can take care of myself. My enemies will fall before me and rise as my allies, flesh and bone, eternally loyal, completely besotted with me. Keep my emotions away from me? The idiocy, these emotions keep me _alive, _they drive me to power."

She bent his elbow until the bones shattered.

"You just want my power, you're out for your own self interests, and these stupid old fools, the exclusion of three" she nodded to acknowledge said three who calmly bowed in response, "want nothing more than to have some man leading their little clan, and they want me to be a little figurehead puppet, the great Queen who took down the previous heads and the Cold Empress…such stupidity."

She pulled at the hand until the arm itself dislocated, she threw than on top of the table, he cried out, harsh and raw, as his damaged arm hit the stone.

"That is why I choose him, he doesn't give a shit if I'm mad or challenged, he'll laugh until he's blue in the face or I win, maybe if I die. He wont fight my battles for me, but he'll stay by my side and wait for me."

She turned and held out her arm as Orage curled his around hers, intertwining their hands, kissing the back of it, cold lips running over lace glove.

* * *

She curled herself up in the lattice window, large billowing skirts flowing over and around her. Orage played with small balls of purple light, rolling them between his fingers.

"You know…"he started, turning towards her, sauntering over to lean above her, arms bracing themselves on the sides of her head. She turned to him, draping her lace covered limbs around his neck. A small smile curling on her lips.

He ducked in to kiss her, running his teeth along her lip.

"You look really beautiful when you look so indifferent to whatever the council plans." He nuzzled her bare throat, purring as he found her pulse, sucking on it.

She laughed, running one of her hands through his brilliant red hair.

He placed one of his hands on the side of her head, running his nose up the side of her neck, kissing her temple.

"Really now?"

"Mhn…you know what else?" He said drawing back to whisper in her ear.

"What?" she smiled, pressing her face against his neck.

"I'd be so good for you."


	10. Heir

**Title: Heir**

**Characters: Madilim, Orage, Colbadra, Kage, a few other main characters, various unimportant OC**

**Continent: Cantha, zu Lamig domains**

**Warnings: spoilers for the future**

**Time period: wayyyyyyyyy after EotN sequel(which has yet to be written, sorry guys!!)**

**Notes: the B in "weiB" should be an s set but it doesn't show up on document editor. Dilaw is yellow(Tagalog), Pa-puru is purple(Japanese), weiB is white(Deutsch).**

**The rumble is Nami.**

* * *

They argued.

They revolted.

They screamed for their way.

Like little children.

A woman whose face could be stone sits upon the petrified wood of her throne. One arm is casually thrown over one side, the other supports her elegant, some believe slightly serpentine, face.

"-not fit-"

"-unacceptable-"

"—shameful disgrace!!"

She takes in their complaints in one ear and out the other.

The council of seasons, backed by several of their followers (bought with the several missing platinum that's been "disappearing" from her guild, personal, mutual, and official funds) argue over the legitimacy of her heir.

Small petty things that she easily dismisses.

A small pale hand lazily, effortlessly, slices through the air to silence them. With a languid gesture of her long, aristocratic fingers she beckons her personal guard and advisors forward.

A woman, pure white, steps forward, her entire being is one word: glacial.

A tiger with a large electric blue eye prowls in her shadow, the thunder to her lightning, the sound to her flash, ripping tear to her purring rumble.

"I do believe," the pale ice queen begins, voice as frigid as her countenance, dropping the room's already cool temperature (between the aura of the Dark Queen and the all dark ones she attracts, the naturally cold temperature of the shadows the stone trees cast, and lack of sunlight it is amazing that the temperature could drop at all), "that any child produced by Lady Madilim and Lord Orage is most certainly acceptable, seeing as he was conceived _after_ union, and is most definitely hers."

"We will _not_ recognize that…_thing_ as…as our leader!"

"Good, because right now he isn't your leader." A voice from the high shadowy arches of the council rooms drawled. "I would hate for you to want to follow him as a baby when your current leader has yet to even hit her prime." A pure black blur dropped to the opposite side of the throne from which the shining white beacon of ice stood. A towering woman, slender and willowy, stood, like a wraith. Constantly flowing, black cloth and armor, knives surrounded her, and yet she was moving, subtle little shifts.

A complete contrast to the ice queen.

It was the blood queen, a woman who radiated flames of indifference, the passion of apathy. The paradoxal assassin, heart of flame body of stone, Kage.

The glints of several knives, kunai, and senbon glared at the council in the magical light, promising death in all forms to those who stood against her.

Elder September nodded her approval, out of all the elders September was always the favorite of the Dark Queen, she was so sweet, yet so strong. A caster who's long fallen out of her prime yet continues to plow on through life with the wit that was left to her.

Elder Juni's lip curled in a snarl, the fool.

"I will not follow you, any of you, this is idiocy!" Several of those around him nodded and voiced their approval.

"That's wonderful." The frozen queen said, lip curling showing her own distaste.

"You aren't really all that necessary anyway." Kage said, hand sliding over one of her hips, in what many had (quite stupidly) mistaken for as a sensual gesture.

"What do you mean?" Marz said timid as ever, but still unwilling to follow her dark queen.

"I call forth the new council, under my command I summon, forward council of Dilaw." Colbadra ordered, lifting one of her pale limbs and beckoning to something in back.

Madilim flickered her wrist forward, her aura lashing out and wrapping around the necks off all the elders (exception of Dezember, September, and October of course) and protesters like a noose. Several people stepped out of the shadows.

An assassin with sun kissed skin and sun bleached hair, followed by an assassin in gray and a paragon with an aura of sunshine. They cut off the exit.

"I call forth my new council, council of Pa-puru." Kage said, idly flipping a dagger as a few more people dropped down from the beams around the elders.

Twin rangers with amethyst eyes, felines snarling with flaming amber eyes. A man and his wolf eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"I call forth my new council, council of weiB" Madilim said, just as a hand encircled her thin wrist.

A necromancer and a pair of albino Ritualists stepped from behind the shadow of the throne.

Orage gently pulled Madilim up as she lifted her other hand.

"I do believe I have grown…_soft_, in my rule. I have tolerated your complaints with as much patience as one can. I saw the suitors you picked for me, and I did not kill them, no matter how much I longed to. I changed several rules to appease you and your wills. I have tolerated several of your more…how shall I phrase it? Shrouded businesses. I allowed you to slide by as you stole from my personal guild, funds, and even from the family coffers. You have tested my patience and it has now ended. If your goal was to push me over the edge, so be it, you have won."

She stood to her full height; her aura dropped the temperature so that ice began to crawl up the glass windows.

"Now reap the rewards of your victory."

She raised her other hand and ordered.

"Leave none of the traitors standing." Her black lace hand covered the slight swell in her abdomen.

The room burst into a flurry of action, Elders, wizened men, great warriors they and their followers may be…

But when faced with survivors of inhuman torture and broken lives…

**_Slash_**

_Blood splattered over the gold embossed glass planes of Melandru as Her beasts shredded men to pieces._

But when faced with survivors of fragmented families and the sick games of higher powers…

**_Screech_**

_Like nails on a limestone the voices of the dying resonate and rattle the swords of Balthazar hanging off the walls, moving them from their frozen state of indifference…into a state of eager bloodlust._

But when faced with survivors of betrayal (the worst wound) and eternal deaths…

**_Snap_**

_Cackles of blue spirit force raced over bodies, snapping bones with the sheer recoil of power, blood that gushed from one man's wounds curled up and gutted the next man in the same moment, the shards of bone fell to the floor, a floor embossed with the body of the dark father, a tribute to the empire his daughter created._

But when faced with the survivor of self committed flagellation and hate…

**_Crackle_**

_Blood arches into the air, ribbons that separate and bead before raining like the tears of the bright mother onto the floor, tears of what could have been._

But when faced with the survivor of puppetry and deceit…

**_Rumble_**

_White flashes all around, oblivion that flickers with flashes of blue, ice shards that make no sound as pure white thunder tears into flesh, its rumble rising to the heavenly sky painted with the twin's golden faces._

…they were but children.

Just like the one resting in her womb.

Madilim caressed the lump and cooed to it.

"My precious heir…listen to the sound of your empire being built. It is yours and yours alone, an empire build on blood, flesh, and bone. What is mine will be yours, my sweet. As such you must not tolerate the hatred, the jealousy, replace it with fear. Fear is the control beloved…have a man's fear, have his eternal loyalty."

And with all her heart she hoped her small unborn son could hear her, because she felt this in her very bones, he would be the next dark monarch…and a monarch must, after all, rule with fear. She might as well make him feared before birth.


	11. Dark Father

**Title: Dark Father**

**Characters: Grenth, Madilim**

**Continent: the Heavens, Mists, wherever you want that isn't on a physical plane**

**Warnings: none**

**Time period: before Madilim is born**

* * *

His bone fingers lightly caressed the small ball of light in his palm.

It was barely the size of his fingertip.

Yet it burned as bright as a thousand souls much older than itself.

He rolled it between his fingers, relishing in its cool warmth, the crisp vivacious death within it.

A soul, a soul that is ever created, a treasure to him.

In all his years he has not once, not once, had a soul this pure, this beautiful…enter his realm.

He was sad to see her go.

But he knew he must. He rose from the cold depths of his realm to join his siblings in their airy villa.

He cradled the little soul to his chest, to the hollow of his chest where his heart of ice blood beat.

He must show her to them before he relinquishes her, his sweet baby…his precious daughter.

Yes, she would be a great woman, a sweet daughter, a daughter, he was a father now. A smile played on his gold lips under his goat's helm, of all the souls he's sired and released, and reaped back again, this is the first he's come to think of as his own child.

A pair of women lounge on a cloud, lazily fluttering kisses over each other. Twin glimmering gazes stare at him as he enters, fingers painted with gold dust roam through expanses of purple jewel hair.

"Brother Grenth." The first one breathes, her voice lilting and crystal.

"What brings you here?" the second whispers, hers low and resonating.

"I have come…to show you my daughter." He smiles wider, and opens his bone fingers, the flesh having long receded up his arms (if he wanted, he supposed, he could call the flesh back, but the bone was so much more receptive to the little child's special warmth) allowing the small dot of life to swirl around his palm.

They rose as a blazing presence exploded behind him.

"Ah little brother, show us this little daughter of yours" a deep voice of flame booms. Grenth can just see the grin on his brother's face.

A woman of green follows quietly behind, and their sister and mother of them all shines upon them as she descends from the higher areas.

Soon all six are crowded around the small little swirl of life.

Dwanya gently caresses the little bloom of life, a smile plays upon her lips.

"Such a sad life this one shall have."

Balthazar laughs.

"But such an adventure!"

Melandru leans against her flaming lover.

"I kind soul, just like you my brother" she touches Grenth's bony shoulder. She of all his siblings was closest to him, for she understood the cycle of nature and how it must go.

Both Lys and Sa cooed.

"Do you see something of interest sisters?" He raised his nearly blind eyes to his gleaming sisters of glamour.

Sa sniggered. "Interest? In time yes."

Lys fawned over the little light before placing a plume from her collar ruff on it, smiling her mischievous smile as it dissolved into the soul.

"What was that?" Grenth asks, alarmed.

"Just a touch of guile." Sa purrs.

Melandru sighs before placing the petal of a small rose onto the soul, which swallowed that as well.

"Then she's going to need as much resilience as the can get."

Balthazar pushes a small ember into it, the soul absorbs it, eagerly.

"Let us not forget courage!"

Grenth was beginning to fear for his little daughter's yet to have started life.

Dwanya smiles, comforting, and places a hand over her brother's, and he watches as a small fragment of her light seeps into the soul, which feebly accepts, as if it knew what an honor it was.

"Honesty so that she may never find herself tied by her words," she glances at the twins and their flaming brother, "unlike some."

Grenth smiles, "Thank you."

Melandru takes his arm as glides out, of all his siblings not only is she the one he is most close to, but the only one he allows into his dominion.

* * *

They stand next to his portal to the living world. She smiles, comforting, and holds his hand.

"She'll return to you."

"I know."

"And she'll have so many things to tell you."

"I know."

"You have to let go."

"I…know." The soul has not yet left his hand and already he misses her.

He raises her to his lips and presses a kiss to it.

"I give you, my sweet child, all the love I have, my heart, my dark child. It will make you different. It will make you unloved for a long time, but I am selfish, you are my child, and I alone can love you like no other."

He relinquished her to the living.

* * *

He watches her constantly, his baby girl, being raised by someone other than him.

He cries tears of blood for all the hurt his love causes her, but he does not regret, for he loves her like no other can.

As she whispers prayers to him at night, as she slowly turns to him more and more he longs to take her back to him, he resists, he knows what she must do.

When she first starts reaping souls and raising dead his heart glows with a fierce pride.

When she falls in love with another dark one, a pet of Lyssa, he heart which glowed with pride clenches and darkens with distrust and jealousy. He used to be the only one in his baby girl's life…but she was growing.

When she falls into the black waters of rebirth he smiles.

He beckons to his child, his dark child.

And she responds. _**My lord Grenth…**_

She takes his hand…and he lets it go.

She will return to him.

His precious baby girl.

**Goodbye my Dark child…**


	12. Ako

**Title: Ako**

**Characters: Nocturnal, Konan**

**Continent: Kryta**

**Warnings: meaningless, plot less fluff**

**Time Period: whenever you want it to be xD**

**Notes: Ako is Tagalog for "me"**

* * *

It was a bunny rabbit.

A small white bunny rabbit that was unnaturally deformed about the head and wearing a tunic and pants with small sewed on black shoes.

It was a bunny rabbit with small un proportional ears, pink cheeks, and a small body.

What in the name of Grenth was so _wonderfully fascinating_ about it that it was getting more attention than him?

He glared at the small inanimate object.

It couldn't move.

It couldn't talk (despite the fact that it was currently being talked to…and holding a decent conversation somehow).

It wasn't alive (unless necromancers somehow found a way into that area of animation, he truly hoped not).

"Is there something wrong Konan?" his treasure asked him turning away from the little rabbit.

"Not at all m'lady." He smiles, fighting down the urge to beat the little toy into small little pieces.

"You are lying." She says, gently placing the rabbit in her belt pouch (the little bugger's head poked out though so it could "breathe").

"I assure you otherwise love." He wraps an arm around her waist and draws her close.

She stares at him before shrugging and patting the rabbit's head.

"I've named him."

"Oh?" So the little bugger is a boy now?

"His name is Ako."

"Does it have any special meaning?"

"Yes."

"Care to expand on that?"

"My little Ako is just a reflection on my devotion to Lyssa."

"Huh?"

She smiles her enigmatic smile, kisses him on the cheek and goes off to their tent.

He stared after her, and couldn't resist staring at her rear, then he saw the rabbit's deformed little ears bobbing with the sway of her hips and grit his teeth.

"Never again will I think of her when I walk into the toy section of the bazaar…"


	13. I am Alone

**Title: I am Alone**

**Characters: Five Gods of Tyria and some of the old ones too **

**Location: the world in general**

**Warnings: This is my own version of the possible "Creation", not sure if there is an official one**

* * *

In the beginning there was Nothingness.

From the Nothingness came forth Light.

Said she, the Light, "I am alone."

And so she remained for eons of time that she did not know was time. She was neither conscious nor unconscious, she was neither here nor there, for there was only she and Nothingness.

She named this Nothingness the Mists. She hated the Mists, she did not know of any other place but there and saw it as her prison.

She decided to make others of her to share her loneliness, for misery loves company.

She split her power into four.

She split off her power of cold and darkness, he was Dhuum.

She separated from herself her anger and warmth, and he was dubbed Menzies.

She pulled from her soul the power of time and the strange chaos of her heart became Abaddon.

She called forth the light of her soul and formed herself, built of life and creation, she named herself Dwayna.

And so the four lived together.

* * *

She and Abaddon called forth the power of creation and time and combined they created the heavens.

They rose to the heavens together, but as they rose to leave the Mists the Nothingness, which they thought to be desolated, a cry came.

It was the pain of Nothingness, the entity of the Mists. As they rose further and further away from Nothingness the cry became more and more pained.

Dwanya, Mother of All and in her infinite kindness felt her heart pain for this thing she had long hated.

One of them must stay. But whom of them shall stay? Who shall rise away?

Dwanya could not stay, for she knew that she would eventually destroy the place of her birth and cause a great misbalance.

Abaddon could not stay, for if he stayed the realm of the heavens, so newly born, would collapse and none of them would be free.

It was between Menzies and Dhuum.

Menzies said, "I can not stay, for if I do the Nothingness shall burn, and then there will be Emptyness. Brother Dhuum, you should stay for your cold temperament is suited well by this vast desolate plane." With that he pushed his brother back into the wailing pit they had called their prison and rose to the heavens to join his siblings.

So Dhuum was left to the Mists and so he stayed, slowly becoming bitter to the sister and mother who had forsaken him to this miserable place.

His anger grew so that it encompassed the Mists and granted him control.

* * *

In the heavens Menzies was slowly overcome by madness, part guilt and part glee.

He was glad he had escaped, he was free!

But a small part of him, a strange part that was not there before, began to thrash and snarl. It wailed for freedom! It screeched in pain, it howled, _why did you leave my brother behind?_

His madness overcame him, some days he was raging and bloodthirsty, seeking battle from his Sister and his Brother.

Others he was sullen and snappy, wallowing in misery over his lost brother.

Abaddon too, was slowly being overcome by madness, but not that of confliction but that of avarice.

He wanted power, he surveyed the heavens he brought forth and so wished for more power, the power of his sister.

He fumed and steamed, how could he possibly take it from her? She kept the bulk of the power when she created them, only giving them small tastes of what she had. But he wanted more, so much more! What could he do?

Dwanya was no fool, for she is the Mother of All. She knew that her brothers and sons were slowly being destroyed.

And they would take her down with them.

Then they would be one with the Nothingness and that she could not allow.

And so as Abaddon slumbered she bound him in light and banished him to the darkest realms of the Mists, chaining him with all her strength.

Then she seized Menzies and ripped him in two.

For she was too weak to do more she retreated to the heavens as the two Menzies fought.

One of pure, brilliant flame fought with a darkened fire that burned with crazed light.

The brilliant flame seized the dark and hurled him too into the Mists, and he became Balthazar.

Balthazar threw himself into the Mists to join his brother Dhuum, to seek forgiveness or death Dwayna did not know.

When she regained her some of her strength and looked around her she wept.

"I am…alone."


	14. Creation

**Title: Creation**

**Characters: Five Gods of Tyria and the old ones**

**Location: The world in General.**

**Warnings: Continuation of "I am Alone" so that has to be read first!!! Once again, not sure on the actual "Creation" thing of Tyria, so this is all random, please do **_**not**_** apply any of this knowledge to the game should something related to this topic come up. **

* * *

And so Dwayna was alone once again.

Then from the darkness and cold of the Mists arose a triumphant Balthazar.

She stared at her son and brother in shock and embraced him within her aura of warmth.

He held her and together they wept over the emptiness.

She pulled back and stared into his eyes.

"Together we shall make more siblings."

He nodded and together they pooled their power.

From Dwanya came intelligence and guile. From Balthazar came strength and zeal.

And so Lyssa was born.

The newly formed Goddess stared at them wide eyed.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am your mother, I am the Mother of All. I am Dwanya." Spoke she.

"I am your father and your brother, I am son of Dwanya, brother of Dwanya. I am the Warlord. I am Balthazar." Spoke he.

"And who are you?" They asked.

"I…am not sure." The child Goddess cried. For within her the Intelligence and Strength fought, the honesty and the guile, the pacifism and outright sadistic desire that lingered from Menzies' soul within Balthazar.

And then she wailed, loud and long.

The Goddess split, from her came a second Goddess and the wails stopped.

They stared at each other and then at their siblings.

"I am Lyssa. I am the twin Goddesses of paradox." Spoke they.

And the four of them lived in peace and joy.

* * *

But below them raged Dhuum, for Balthazar had left him alive, Balthazar had chained Abaddon and Menzies to the darkness but left Dhuum alone. Dhuum could leave the Mists for now there were three Gods there, but the heavens had closed their doors upon him.

So he raged.

The four above were not oblivious. They did not know what to do.

So they created another world with the hope that they could release their siblings upon it.

From Balthazar came endurance. From Lyssa beauty. From Dwayna life.

But the realm would not hold, for it had not time.

With deep reluctance they called forth the power of their fallen brother Dhuum, who as ruler of the Mists could call forth the power of their siblings sealed within.

Dhuum gave them time and the earth was formed.

* * *

From that earth sprung a fully formed woman-child and a man-child.

A girl with locks of green in all shades and strange appendages, which were later named plants, of the palest pink and the richest browns. Eyes vibrant yet dreamy. Limbs long and supple.

A boy with waves of inky darkness for hair, deep sorrowful green eyes. Long limbs of pure whiteness. Ethereal and cold.

The girl stretched her fingers to the light of Balthazar's flames and Dwayna's life.

The boy curled away from them but his eyes fixed in awe at them all.

Neither spoke.

Dwanya reached for them and pulled them into her arms.

"What are your names my children?"

The girl looked up with wide eyes.

"I am Melandru, he is Grenth. We are not the same, but from me came him, and from him comes me."

The boy, Grenth, with his large sorrowful eyes stared up at his Mother and sister, Dwanya.

"Are you our mother?" His voice quiet and smooth he asked, touching her blue skin with his pale white hand.

She jolted at the cold he emitted.

"Aye." She responded.

"Are you his mother as well?" He whispered, and he stared at the darkness bordering the heavens.

"Aye." She nodded.

"Then why is he alone?"

The Gods looked among themselves then back to the child deity. And then they knew, Dhuum had placed a bit of himself within the earth. The part of himself that was lonely so that he would not feel the pain any longer.

They had no answer for him.

* * *

That night as the children deities slept they took the boy from his sister and threw him into the darkness.

That morning Melandru wept and the earth, which was truly hers, stormed, water whirled and thunder roared. She raged, the earth cracked and blood of flaming lava cascaded into the water, clashing and colliding.

That morning Dhuum and Grenth fought.

Grenth who willed himself to survive so that he might see his sister and the others again.

Dhuum so that he could destroy the loneliness.

Just as Dhuum was about to overcome the child Melandru cried out and so sprung forth from her the ram who speared Dhuum upon its horn.

Dwanya, Balthazar, and Lyssa sealed Dhuum with Menzies within the depths and left, knowing that Grenth must now stay as lord of the Mists.

Melandru held her brother and he held her.

He took the Ram's head and as he did the Mists curled around him and granted him the touch of death.

He placed the Ram's skull upon his as he felt his eyes dilate and burn in the face of light.

So he turned to the darkness, alone but loved as he felt his sister's warmth seep to him from her heart.

And she rose to the earth, sad but comforted that her brother would not be alone as long as she lived.

And the five Gods lived in harmony upon the Earth, Heavens and Mists.

* * *

Melandru called forth flora and fauna upon the land and healed the cracks of the earth, but the damage had been done.

The stone skin of the earth had split into three, separated by vast expanses of water.

Tyria.

Cantha.

Elona.

The world was empty, so upon it Dwanya placed more creatures, each more different than the next.

Balthazar threw suns and stars into the skies so that these creatures may see.

Lyssa showered millions of dusts of magic upon the land so that it would forever be renewed.

Grenth curled his shadows just under the surface so that each creature would know the wealth of its life.

Melandru called forth many things for them to enjoy.

And they were not alone.


	15. The House that Illusions Built

**Title: The House that Illusions Built**

**Characters: Kuyeng Kage, OC from her oneshot**

**Location: Cantha, Shing Jea area**

**Warnings: connects to Kuyeng Kage's oneshot "Assassin in the Wind", not really necessary to read.**

**Notes: "Watashi no ie yo"-I'm home**

"**Youkoso ho mu"-Welcome home**

"**Itoshi teimasu"-I love you**

_

* * *

_

A little boy runs in with bunches of purple wildflowers.

"_Okaa-san! Okaa-san!"_

_She kneels down to him and picks him up, burying her face into his auburn hair._

_A pair of warm arms wrap around the two of them and laughter blows into her ear. He whispers something that sounds like "wake up"._

* * *

Eyes open and stare at a plain ceiling. She sits up on silken sheets and her feet slide onto synthetic hides that lay on the floor. She straightens her sleeping yukata died lavender; such a dreadful color lavender is, and walks into the bathroom. She splashes water in her face from a bucket she brought in the night before. She stares into the mirror in front of her.

She goes down the stairs, staring at the painted scenes on the walls, and enters her kitchen. She kindles a magical fire and sits on her wooden chair. She stares at the purple flowers on the table.

Made of cloth with shimmering golden sparkles at the center in that color of purple that lies in between magenta and red. Such an annoying color.

She pours a cup of tea and sips it staring out into the garden.

* * *

_He sows the seeds and she tends the vegetables. Their boy runs around chasing various insects_.

_That night they sit on the porch and watch fire flies dance. He cups one in his hand and she and her son bask in its soft glow from his warm hands._

* * *

She closes the curtains and turns away from the neglected jungle of a yard.

She goes back up the stairs and stops in by a closed door.

* * *

_She tucks her boy into his futon and kisses his forehead, she slides his window open so the moon shines down on his angelic face._

_She sings to him about Sakura trees and emerald leaves and all sorts of things._

_She goes to the door when he has finally settled and with a last look on his face goes into the arms of her beloved to go to their own room._

* * *

She opens the door and rolls up the futon on the floor and places it in the closet, she closes the window and walks back out.

She steps into the arms of emptiness.

She goes to her study and kneels in front of a shrine.

She lights incense and prays a single round of prayer beads and leaves.

_

* * *

_

She sits in her study reading a scroll her beloved bought her from the market.

_Their son is asleep. He kneels at the shrine and prays for continued good fortune._

* * *

She goes to her room and slides of the yukata; she slips into her purple, a truly horrendous color, imperial armor. Today her vacation is over and her duties in Kaineng resume.

She picks up her daggers from the bedside table.

* * *

_She slips out of her yukata and into his arms. His lips are warm on her skin, he kisses her back and neck and dusts her cheekbones with his lips. Together they dress and undress and dress themselves again in tight leather and steal._

_She slides her Butterfly knives into their holsters and he slides his Ebon Daggers into their hidden slots._

* * *

She walks to the front door and slides up her purple mask and makes sure her fan ornament is in place in her hair.

She pulls on her thigh high boots and makes sure the senbon needles aren't showing and steps out.

* * *

_She comes into the house with her husband. He slides off his purple mask is placed next to the door._

_"Watashi no ie yo"_

_"Youkoso ho mu" a sleepy voice calls from the hallway. She goes forward to embrace her boy._

* * *

She tightens the purple mask and locks the door. _It is fake, there's nothing inside worth locking away._

There once was a house that illusions built. A house of illusions of family, warmth, and life. _It is a house of fake. Fake scenes, fake smiles, fake memories, fake flowers._

Kage kneels at a tomb at the corner of her house, she kisses the marble. _It's fake, there's no body under it. He was burned to ash and scattered. The love was not real. She killed him._

"Itoshi teimasu, Dies." She makes sure that the purple mask on the tombstone is properly fastened to it and leaves. _Purple is not real, it is a shade of two colors combined._

She leaves the illusion of a warm house with a warm family. _There was no warmth, there was no family._

She leaves the lie of a son and husband at the tombstone. _There never was a son, he never got a chance to be her husband._

She slips into the mode of a killer and leaves. _It is her only mode...all the rest aren't real._

She is a drifter and a nomad, an assassin. There is no room for ties. She floats from location to location, target to target. She is not but a flower petal in the wind, subject to its whims and will endure whatever it blows her into. _This is the only truth in her life, there is nothing. This is her creed._

So she leaves these ties, the warmth behind, where it should be, in its proper place…_Ties aren't real, they are all illusions built in life to comfort the soul._

So that she may pick it back up again whenever the wind blows it her way. _The wind controls the illusion, but the basis stays the same. The kill._


End file.
